Rocky the Racoon

I dreamt that Mom added a racoon to her family of pets. It was originally going to be another cat (neighbourhood homeless) and it was in Grandma’s yard, but by the time I found shoes that fit in our basement to go retrieve the cat, it had moved. It had previously been playing with Wagner (Mom's Sheltie) in Grandma’s front yard. Then Grandma’s house turned into Aunt Sandy’s house (although it still looked like Grandma’s house but moved to lakeshore) complete with a massive partly submerged log moored along the shoreline (reminding me of Deka Lake) which was located where Mom’s/Grandma’s south neighbour is now. We all sat on this huge log while my cousin Michelle brought over the racoon which had previously been the homeless cat. As soon as I tried to pick it up, it ran out of my grasp.

Intersections

This morning I witnessed a rare traffic disturbance in Vancouver at Fraser Street and E. 41st Avenue. Or it would have been “rare” had I not witnessed it a previous two times in the last three weeks.

For the first two episodes I was at the intersection of Knight Street and E. 41st Avenue when a police Harley with lights flashing and siren blaring roared up and stopped abruptly in the middle of the intersection. The officer quickly dismounted and directed traffic in all four directions to halt and wait. Then half a dozen or so police motorcycles roared through the intersection following by three or four black SUVs, then half a dozen or so additional police bikes. As soon as the entourage cleared the intersection the initial rider remounted and blasted off to leave the intersection to return to its normal congested state. 

Years and years ago I witnessed a similar incident at the corner of W. 16th Avenue and Granville Street. I’m not sure exactly when it was, but it was in the pre-2010 era (Winter Olympics) when the mint green YVR airport shuttles still regularly travelled the Granville Street route. I must have ancient notes of the event somewhere; I’ve always been in the habit of at least jotting down notes of notable events even if I hadn’t penned an entire blog entry. I remember that day quite clearly as it was such a diversion from normal daily humdrum occurrences. But I can’t remember which dignitary or celebrity I’d guessed it might be at the time. 

Now, however, I think I can pretty accurately guess what’s going on with local traffic patterns. As part of the lead-up to “World Cup” the traffic enforcement division of the VPD is probably practicing for high-security transportation of celebs and dignitaries throughout the city during the big event.

Fuel

This past Friday my self-assigned task was to drop off Shauna’s laptop at the school for an IT update. Since it was such magnificent weather I decided to ride my motorcycle. And also, I’d replied to a FB ad regarding vintage Expo86 literature and I’d arranged to pick it up later in the week, so the two errands coincided with a nice morning’s ride. Or so I thought.

My most previous ride had been about three weeks ago to Chilliwack for a vintage VW parts swap meet. Traffic had been fairly heavy, especially through Langley and Surrey, then heavy again once I got back into Vancouver city limits. And since this had been my first ride of the season, I was quite sore as I approached home. Therefore I decided not to top up the gas tank (foreshadowing) prior to parking the motorcycle at home. And, as I have discovered from past experience, I did not remember to go directly to the gas station prior to embarking on my new trip.

I fired up the bike and headed to my first stop in north Burnaby, remembering mid-route that I hadn’t even checked my fuel level today. I made my purchase and headed off to Stop #2. Again, never once thought of gas. I merged into freeway traffic with no issues and entered the Cassiar tunnel. Halfway through the tunnel someone directly ahead of me absolutely floored their muscle SUV and accelerated in a cannon-shot blast of carbon particles and explosive sound. The hugely amplified sound within the confined space of the tunnel scared the hell out of me.

I was just calming down as I exited the tunnel and was approaching the base of the bridge’s incline when…

…that all-to-familiar mechanical hiccupping began. I can’t think of too much of a worse place for that to happen; except maybe inside the Cassiar tunnel, LOL. Embarrassingly, unexpected fuel drainages have been a bit of a running commentary with this motorcycle (no fuel gauge). I immediately tapped the reserve switch on the fairing. No response whatsoever. I was in the middle lane with traffic merging from the east onramp cloverleaf. The motorcycle started to decelerate to its fuel-starved chug-chug state. The bridge was approaching rapidly, and as I applied more and more throttle the bike slowed correspondingly ever more rapidly.

To my shock and horror the engine died completely while I was still in the centre lane! I could see from my rearview mirrors that the driver right behind me had thankfully turned on his emergency flashers as my motorcycle is not equipped with that feature. I moved over to the curb lane and began to push the bike up the bridge deck incline, partially protected by the vehicle behind me that still had its emergency flashers engaged. I don’t know how long that vehicle remained behind me. Several cars and trucks passed me very close to my left side as I pushed. There's no shoulder lane on the bridge.

Fortunately the Ironworkers Memorial Bridge has three lanes in each direction, plus it was mid-day; not yet rush hour. Despite those conditions I bet my stall backed up traffic into the tunnel during the 15-20 minutes or so that I estimate it took me to push my bike up the incline. I took three or four breaks to catch my breath and two or three passing cars slowed to ask if they could help. One guy driving a pickup even offer to help me load my bike into his pickup bed to get me over the bridge. But I could see that his ramps were short and due to the weight of my motorcycle plus the incline of the bridge I knew we’d never be able to load it. I thanked him and continued pushing. Even a cyclist stopped on the sidewalk to ask if he could help in any way.

Well, if nothing else I guess in fairly telling fashion I proved to myself I’m in pretty good physical condition. Those workouts seem to have been worth their weight in gold. Like I say, I estimated that it took about 15-20 minutes (although probably more) for the bridge deck incline to finally start to flatten out at its apex. After that point I hopped on the seat and started pushing with wide-leg strides to generate momentum. Faster and faster I went watching, the speedometer increase to over 50 km/h by the time I cruised onto the off ramp. Fortunately the momentum continued long enough to propel me into the parking lot of a self-storage facility on Dollarton Highway. From there I had to choose which gas station was closest: east or west. I chose west for its proximity to an A&W. Pushing a 500 lb motorcycle is hungry work! The clerk at the gas station was kind enough to lend me a jerry can (no deposit even!) and also offered me a free Slurpee. Very kind of him.